


Bridge (And Other Things We'll Cross)

by bookfairy_writes



Series: Just One Yesterday [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Just one yesterday, M/M, eventual Dean/Cas, fall out boy - Freeform, four-part series, part three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookfairy_writes/pseuds/bookfairy_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their way to take a case across the country, the gang runs into a bit of a snag in the form of a strange little midwestern town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Spilled My Guts

Neither Winchester brother was much for sleep. They treated it like a controlled substance, taking it in chunks of a few hours and rarely longer than six as though they were afraid it would run out. She knew that wasn’t the reason--it was a fear of letting your guard down. Having hours pass without you knowing what was going on around you was a terrifying prospect, especially to those who battled supernatural forces. Michaela’s lack of notoriety helped her sleep better than the Winchester boys but she didn’t sleep deeply and restfully unless she was at home with her mothers. The wards on their house could keep out an apocalypse and though the bunker’s wards were impressive, she had a less-than-thrilled angel in the same bunker with her. While she felt that he wouldn’t stab her while she slept, it would do no good to let her guard down now.

Sam disappeared to pack and when he returned to determine which files to take with him, he looked at the nephil woman with a strange expression on his face. She allowed him to continue staring until his gaze became irritating and she looked up.

“What?”

“Do you...um...sleep?”

Not an unreasonable question, angels didn’t sleep and who knew with some monsters. Even if he didn’t consider her a monster she was still other, still many variables of unknown and no matter how kind Sam seemed, he was still a hunter. She was still not entirely human, something he wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon, regardless of her hopes or the fact that he didn’t say it outright.

“Yes, I sleep.”

“You can have one of the rooms down here if you want. You know, take a shower, get a few hours sleep before we set off.”

“Do the doors lock?”

Sam looked surprised.

“Yes…”

“I’m the only woman here. I feel safer with a locked door when I sleep.”

“We wouldn’t--” Sam began uncomfortably.

“I know. It’s a habit.”

She didn’t mention that their angel had a deep suspicion of her and she’d prefer a room of her own for reasons of privacy. No one needed to know about her spare angel blades, some of the hex bag sets she had, the bottle of holy oil as well as other tools to fight many of the same manner of beasts that the brothers did. Privacy was a habit by now, both for safety’s sake and for personal comfort. 

“Yeah, come with me.”

“My stuff is still at the motel. I would rather go get it now.”

“Mind if I ride along?”

He said it politely enough but he was a Winchester through and through. Going through files and trading theories didn’t stretch his trust outside the walls of the bunker. She respected that, even if it was irritating.

“Sure thing.”

“Let me tell Dean.”

“I will tell him,” came a gravelly voice behind them. Michaela flinched and turned to face the angel.

“Thanks Cas.” Sam offered him a grin. “Tell him we’ll be back in half an hour or so.”

“Less, my bags are pretty much packed. It’s more of a grab and go thing.”

“Of course.”

Angels could be condescending as well as sarcastic, it seemed. Castiel was full of little surprises.

Her car was parked around out of sight of the bunker and when Sam saw it he made a disgusted-sounding noise.

“ _ That _ is the car you drive?”

She looked at her car for a moment, trying to see what Sam saw. Grey and boxy with peeling paint and bald tires, it didn’t look like much. The smear on the read window which looked suspiciously like vomit added to the overall look and through the dusty windows the seats looked stained and moth-eaten. It was a car in the technical sense of the term, its most identifiable feature being the word ‘Chrysler’ etched above the rusty grille. Shrugging, Michaela didn’t answer, only unlocked it and got into the driver’s seat. Sam followed suit on the passenger side, gingerly pulling on the door handle like he was afraid it would come off. Once he sat down, he looked wildly around the inside of the car, shocked and confused.

The interior of the car was a little cluttered, but clean. An air freshener was clipped onto one of the vents and the windows were clean, the vomit-looking smear on the back window apparently gone. Swiveling in his seat, Sam got back out of the car and then looked in through the open door.

“It’s glamoured,” Michaela told him. “People don’t tend to pay much attention to a beat up car parked in a ditch, they assume it’s been abandoned or something. Unlike your brother, I try for something approaching stealth.”

“You have a spell on your car so it looks like a piece of crap?”

Sam slid back into the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling his seatbelt as Michaela turned the key. 

“It’s a protective feature. And no one has ever tried to steal my car.”

“There’s a shock.”

Pulling around, the sedan bumped down the dirt road and pulled onto the stretch of empty highway going towards town. While she drove, she fiddled with the radio dial one-handed. Static buzzed along with snatches of radio evangelists, country music, and a droning talk show which seemed to be focusing on the upcoming local elections. 

“So,” Sam said.

“So.”

She fiddled with the radio dial some more.

“You spent a lot of time with Gabriel?”

“Not really, no. I got a pep talk shortly after I found out what I was. It consisted of ‘welcome to the family kid, don’t draw attention to yourself or your uncles and aunts will kill you.’ And then he talked some shit about my dad and offered me candy.”

“That sounds...about what we’ve come to expect from Gabriel.”

The radio picked up a staticky pop cover of an old classic rock song and Michaela tried to adjust it to make the song come through clearer. After a minute of that, the song ended and the DJ came on, just as staticky. 

“What were you hunting before this thing?”

“Werewolf in Florida--near Disney actually. I got him after a week or so, the rough part was sorting out who was a monster and who was just crazy.”

“You believe in that stuff though? Monsters?”

“What because I’m not fully human I’m incapable of figuring out that killing people isn’t okay?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I defended you in there, remember?”

“Yeah well. Biases run deep. I don’t expect you to get it.”

“You’d be surprised what I’d get.”

“Uh huh.”

Sam didn’t offer any more details and Michaela didn’t ask. Thankfully, it was only silent for a minute or two before they pulled into the motel parking lot. As she got out, Sam did as well and she held a hand up.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Coming up.”

“You’re not watching me shove my underwear back into my suitcase and clean my hair out of the shower drain.”

“Right,” Sam said awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Just...wait here okay? I’ll be down in five minutes or so.”

“Sure.”

Leaning awkwardly against the car, Sam watched the nephil climb the stairs and slot a plastic key card into the door of room 110. The door closed behind her and Sam slid back into the passenger seat, tugging at the handle of the glove box. Locked.

When she emerged a few minutes later, Sam had closed and re-locked the glove box and all of Michaela’s precautionary equipment was tucked safely among a few sweaty sports bras and running shorts. The drive back to the bunker was quiet, but Michaela finally got a clear station so the silence was comfortable rather than awkward.

Once she dropped her bag onto the bed in the room she was using, Michaela turned to Sam before he could go.

“Shower?”

“Third door on the left. There should be extra towels under the sink.”

“Thanks.”

The hiss of hot water was both comforting and nerve-wracking--comforting because of the white noise and sensation of warm water rinsing away all the dirt and sweat of the day and nerve-wracking because being naked while white noise covered sounds which could potentially alert you to danger was not a comfortable position for a hunter to be in. She set a knife on the edge of the bathtub next to her shampoo bottle, ready to grab it if someone came barging in while she was washing her hair. No one did, but having it there helped her to feel better. It rested on the closed lid of the toilet while she dried herself off and on the countertop as she brushed her teeth.

When she emerged from the bathroom with wet hair strewn across her bare shoulders, her body wrapped in a towel, she found Dean Winchester standing by the door. 

“Took you long enough. Is there even any hot water left?”

“Upset I didn’t invite you along?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

She shouldered past him, the dagger tucked among her dirty clothes and almost walked into Castiel.

“Are you going to complain about something too?”

“I do not care about the hot water.”

“Great. I’d like to go get dressed.”

“I am warning you that if you attempt to harm the Winchesters, I will bring the wrath of my full powers upon you.”

“Is this the ‘you break his heart I break your face’ speech? Because you’re not doing it well.”

The angel looked confused momentarily.

“Do not harm any part of Dean, including major organs.”

“Planning on using them?”

“Dean’s organs are most valuable to him inside his body. I would have no use for additional organs.”

“Never mind.”

“Heed me, nephil.”

“I heard you. Stay away from your boyfriend.”

“I do not think that you understood at all,” Cas spluttered and Michaela used his distraction to slide past him and back towards the room she was using. Closing the door behind her, she dug a stick of chalk from the front pocket of her bag and began drawing warding runes on the walls. Only after they were finished did she drop her towel and dress once more. Tucking a blade under her pillow, she clicked the light off and laid down on the borrowed bed.


	2. The World Wouldn't Ever Look at You the Same Way

She was using a dirty shirt to wipe the chalk runes off the walls when someone knocked on her door. Pulling the door open, she looked up at Sam Winchester standing in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Dean’s making breakfast if you want anything.”

“Sure.”

Over breakfast, Sam and Dean bickered about who was driving and who was riding in the back seat. After it began to get on her nerves, Michaela cleared her throat a few times.

“Someone can ride in my car.”

The Winchesters exchanged a look.

 

“I don’t care what you put on as long as it comes in reasonably clearly,” Michaela told Sam as she started her car. Sam leaned forward to twist the radio dial this way and that, searching out a station. Over breakfast, the brothers had agreed that Sam would ride with Michaela because Dean wasn’t letting anyone else drive his baby and leaving an angel and a nephil who didn’t trust each other alone in a car for over twelve hours was a sure way to get someone killed. Along the dusty road they drove, pulling onto larger highways which cut through fields of corn, wheat, and tobacco that went on to the horizon. Above them, the blue sky seemed endless and Michaela rolled the windows down so the warm breeze tangled her dark curly hair. Sam found a radio station which didn’t seem to have a theme to it. It played music interspersed with commercials but the genre varied and a DJ never came on the air to say anything. Music and ads, music and ads as they drove along past corn and the occasional farmhouse. 

A growling engine roared past and Michaela watched the black Chevy Impala pass them as Dean belted out the words to something with a screaming guitar. In the passenger seat, Castiel looked mildly amused, his smile fading somewhat when the nephil gave him a cocky little wave. 

“He does know that I’m leading, right?” Michaela half-shouted to Sam over the wind and the radio.

“Dean isn’t really the following type.”

“Just the getting lost type?”

“He’s just being a dick. It’s part of his personality.”

Four hours in they stopped for gas and then lunch at a diner, the sort that you see in old movies and small towns where no one has changed the color scheme in the past fifty years. The food more than made up for the mint green and white interior, the almost-sticky vinyl of the booth seats, the faint smell of floor wax. Dean waxed poetic about a hamburger with his mouth full of thick-cut fries and Sam rolled his eyes. Even the angel ordered something, which surprised her as angels didn’t need to eat and Castiel didn’t seem the type to indulge in unnecessary things. Well, other than spending time with the Winchesters. Why he was riding shotgun in the Impala instead of zapping himself cross-country was beyond her but the meal was fairly civil and she didn’t want to ruin a good mood.

The mood didn’t last long. Pulling out of the diner’s lot and onto the road, Michaela headed towards the on ramp and felt the car struggling. She listened for engine noises or telltale grinding but all she heard was a rubbery flapping sound.

“Damnit.”

On the side of the road she stared at her flat tire, a couple of industrial staples bent and stuck into the rubber.

“You have a spare, right?” Sam asked. He too had exited the car to investigate, though whether he was doing it out of a desire to help or a general need to know all available information, Michaela didn’t know. 

“Yeah. And not one of those doughnuts either. Let me just change it and we can go.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I have a jack in the trunk.”

Sam pulled his cell phone out.

“I’ll call Dean and let him know we’ve got a flat.”

“Thanks.”

She popped the trunk and pulled out a jack and the spare tire as well as a wrench. Twenty minutes, tops and they were back on the road.

 

It was more like thirty because one of the bolts rolled into the grass and it took ten minutes to comb through the scraggly grass on the edge of the road and find it again. Sam tried to help but ended up holding things and then handing them to her. 

“Changing a tire isn’t a group activity, but thanks Winchester.”

“Sam,” he corrected and she nodded once, tightening the bolt further.

  
  


“The trash heap Michaela calls a car got a flat so they’ll be running behind.” Dean turned to Cas and grinned.

“That’s what Sam gets for choosing the lame car. Can’t beat my baby.” He patted the dashboard fondly and Castiel stared at him somewhat blankly.

“The car, Cas. Hers sucks. Mine doesn’t.”

“I see,” the angel replied, clearly not seeing at all. “And you trust her alone with Sam?”

“He’s riding with her anyway.”

Dean frowned and turned down the classic rock blasting through the speakers.

“Cas, what’s your deal with Michaela?”

“She is an abomination.”

“No I got that but you’re a lot less of an asshole than you were back in the day. Being human did you some good in the perspective department but with her it’s like you’re still the stick-up-his-ass angel who had never had an original thought.”

“Thanks.”

“See? Old you wouldn’t have bothered replying. Don’t get me wrong Cas, you’re part of the family but it’s weird. Is there something you know that we don’t? Is she about to kick-start and apocalypse?”

The angel sighed and looked out the window, not speaking for a long moment.

“You are aware that Michael is my brother.”

“Kinda hard to forget.”

“He was...is...the good one. Powerful, trusted by our Father, respected among the ranks. We all looked up to him as the epitome of what we should be--soldiers for the Lord. Finding that he made this error, laying with a human and producing a child...it is wrong.”

“So you found out that your big brother is a fuck-up like the rest of us and you’re taking it out on his kid? That’s kinda messed up, Cas.”

“No,” the angel said vehemently. “This is not about a mistake. This is about the principle of it.”

“Cas, your family is a big bag of dicks. Golden boy made a mistake. What does principle have to do with it?”

“You will not understand.”

“What, because I’m human? I’m not an idiot, Cas.”

“You see me in this vessel and you think that I’m something resembling a human. You think that human rules and human logic applies to us and you’re wrong. The most revered of all of us made one of the gravest ills that our kind can besides betraying our Father and I have to look at the result of that ill and pretend it isn’t offensive.”

“She.”

Cas looked up, his eyes dark and a deep frown creasing his features.

“I do not understand.”

“Not it. She. Michaela is a person. Maybe not a human, but a person.”

“The fact that she had relations with you might be clouding your judgement somewhat.”

“Oh and the fact that you’re jealous of your brother and what he got away with doesn’t?”

“I beg your pardon?” The angel sounded more outraged than confused.

“You tried to save the angels a dozen times. You searched out God, you tried to make things better. Hell, you fucked it up royally and unleashed leviathans but you tried. You did everything for your family, sacrificed everything, and they threw it in your face. So now you find out that the family golden boy broke the rules because he could, not even for a good reason, and you’re pissed because he gets to stay golden and you’re the family joke.”

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was low, dangerous. “You have gone too far.”

“You think I don’t know family bullshit when I see it?” 

Outside, thunder echoed through the clear blue sky and inside the Impala, the radio began scanning across stations, static interrupting brief flashes of music. The air felt heavier and Dean could smell ozone. If it wasn’t for the knowledge that the angel was causing this, Dean would already have a shotgun full of rock salt and his angel blade out to kill whatever was. 

“Don’t pull this shit on me, Cas. Man up.”

The radio sparked and stopped working and with a rush of wings, Castiel vanished.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean jabbed a finger to try and turn the radio back on and it didn’t respond. “Angel temper tantrum broke my radio.”

  
  


Thunder rumbled through the air from a distance and Sam leaned out the open window to look at the sky.

“It’s clear out. Maybe it’s from the heat?”

“It’s not that hot.”

“Maybe someone’s firing artillery.”

“Sure.”

The radio buzzed with static, the clear station suddenly becoming unintelligible.

“Damnit.” Michaela smacked the radio a couple of times. “That was the only decent channel on.”

“I can look some more if you want.”

“Go ahead. You already know there’s nothing on.”

As Sam turned the dial slowly back and forth, he cleared his throat.

“So...what was it like growing up?”

She took her eyes off the road for a moment to look back at him but Sam appeared to be concentrating on the radio.

“Like any other kid, probably. I was homeschooled until high school. Played some sports, did kid stuff.”

“What did you play?”

“I tried a little of everything.”

“So you had friends growing up?”

“I guess.”

“Dean and I...well our dad was a hunter too so we mostly travelled from place to place and he took jobs. It wasn’t a stable thing, so making friends was hard.”

“Life’s hard.”

“Did you live in the same place your whole life?”

“We moved a couple of times.”

Sam sighed and leaned back in his seat, abandoning the radio.

“Has anyone ever told you that talking to you is like pulling teeth?”

“You’re a hunter. You should get the ‘no sharing’ policy. It’s safer that way.”

“Well yeah but you’re a hunter too. It’s not like I’m going to have you locked up for talking about vampires or something.”

“Look, I get that you’re trying to be friendly but you guys had me chained to a chair less than twenty-four hours ago. Forgive me for not wanting to make friendship bracelets.”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry.”

The car was silent except for the rushing of wind for over an hour when the radio picked up something country-sounding and a man crooned about his lost lover.

  
  
  


Castiel reappeared in the passenger seat four and a half hours after he’d vanished. Dean glanced over and there he was, fairly expressionless and staring out the windshield as though he’d never left.

“I have given thought to what you said.”

“Oh?” Dean replied shortly. “Was this before or after you fried my radio?”

“After.”

There was a pause.

“I apologize for the damage. I can attempt to repair it.”

“Thanks, you’ve done enough.”

“You may be correct about my bias towards...Michaela.” 

Her name came from his lips in a mildly pained tone but he used it.

“You think?”

“I already confirmed that I did.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Even during his most human moments, Cas was still Cas.

“I will attempt to be more civil if that is what you wish.”

“That’s not the point, Cas, but yeah. That’d be nice.”

He glanced at the dials on the dashboard.

“I’m almost out of gas anyway. I’ll have to stop and call Sam and Michaela to see where they are.”

Cas didn’t respond, only turned to look back out the window.

An exit sign flashed ahead of them, green with white reflective letters. After it was another sign, this one blue and marked with ‘Food’ and ‘Gas’ along with the logos for various establishments selling food and/or fuel.

As he turned onto the exit ramp, however, the car shut off all at once.

“What the hell? Cas, what did you do?”

“I did nothing. It felt like some sort of magical wave” The angel was frowning and Dean steered the car to the shoulder where he pressed the brake and tried to restart the engine. Nothing. Pulling the emergency brake, he popped the front open and got out to look at the engine.

“Cas, do me a favor and call Sam? If Baby doesn’t restart we might need a tow and Sam isn’t taking off without us. Besides that, whatever just magic-bombed the car needs to be dead yesterday.”

Castiel pulled out a cell phone from his trenchcoat pocket, examined the screen, and looked back at Dean.

“It does not appear to be functioning.”

Digging out his phone, Dean found that his wouldn’t turn on either. 

“Damn. I’ve got others in the glove box.”

As with the previously tried phones, the others in the glove box wouldn’t even turn on.

“Great. I guess we’re walking into town to see what’s up.”

He slammed the hood shut and walked around to unlock the Impala’s trunk. Pistol on one hip, knife sheathed in his boot, angel blade up one sleeve, holy water and salt in his pockets. Dean considered the shotgun for a moment and decided it would be difficult to conceal. Instead, he rifled through his fake badges and shoved a couple of different ones in separate pockets. Who knew what they were getting into? It was better to be prepared.

Outfitted with gear, Dean locked the Impala and he and Castiel walked up the highway exit ramp and towards the town.

 


	3. So Now I'm Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas find a little midwestern town, Michaela and Sam get worried about the radio silence

The angel and the hunter reached town in less than an hour. Dean used one hand to shade his eyes; the sun was almost too bright though it wasn’t all that hot. It was maybe three miles away from the exit ramp and had the same feel that all small midwestern towns seemed to have with one glaring exception--it was empty. This wasn’t immediately evident; lights in businesses were still on. ‘Open’ signs with neon auras glowed in front windows. Cars were parked in lots and streetside. When they came to the first gas station and found it empty, Dean thought it odd but in a small town sometimes you stepped out and didn’t worry about getting robbed. 

When they stuck their heads into the restaurant on the main road and found it empty as well, Dean felt somewhere deep in his gut that something wasn’t right. His heartbeat was still slightly elevated from the walk and he could feel it pounding in his chest. Mentally he checked his weapons, ready for something to jump out at him.

“There’s something weird going on here, Cas.”

“The magical wave that likely caused your car to malfunction is still present.”

“Witches, do you figure?”

“I am not an expert on such matters, but that seems as good an explanation as any.”

They walked along the empty street, Dean listening intently to the silence and Cas walking a half-step behind. A car door slammed and both turned to look at where the sound came from. An elderly man in a band t-shirt stared back at them through the windshield. Dean’s hand went to rest on his gun for a moment before he lowered it and headed towards the car. 

“Cover me.”

The angel nodded and Dean went from a walk to a light jog over to the car, trying for a casual approach. He tapped on the window and the man eyed him distrustfully through the glass over the rims of his bifocals. 

Sighing, Dean dug through his jacket and pulled out a badge, which he held up to the window.

“I’m FBI, okay? Roll the window down.”

The old man considered it before turning the key in the car and pressing a button so his window glided down.

“What is the FBI doing in Clinton?”

“Our car broke down on the exit ramp,” Castiel said from behind him. “We think it might have been--”

“One of the spark plugs,” Dean interrupted before Cas could tell the man about magic waves and witches. “So we figured there’d be a store around here that sold something like it but everyone seems to be missing.”

“There was a twister sighting not thirty minutes ago. Everyone’s down in the cellars.”

Dean glanced at the sky and back to the man.

“It’s clear out.”

The old man shrugged. 

“When the radio says there’s a twister in the area, you go into the cellar. You don’t stand around asking questions.”

“What are you doing out here then?” Castiel asked and the man leaned to one side to look around Dean and at the angel.

“I need to take my heart medication three times a day. Didn’t bring the bottle down with me.”

Behind them, a bell on the door of some establishment jingled and both Dean and Cas turned to look at it.

“Tom, you all right? I thought you were going to get your medication.”

The woman in the doorway looked concerned and the man, Tom, waved at her.

“Just explaining the twister to these officers. Their car blew a plug on the highway and we were closest thing they had.”

“I’ll get them settled then. Go and take your pill or Margery will tear me a new one for letting you forget.”

Tom smiled conspiratorially at the two men before him. 

“Never get old, boys. All the babies you watched eat mud pies start telling you what to do.”

Castiel looked like he was going to respond to this but Dean elbowed him sharply and smiled back at the old man.

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

The woman in the doorway beckoned as Tom rolled his window back up. All around them, people were bleeding back into the street, doors opening and closing, cars starting, the hum of life returning to the previously silent town. Shrugging, Dean headed for the woman in the doorway and Cas followed him. 

Inside it was a few degrees cooler and a slow fan circulated air around a store which seemed to carry a little bit of everything. 

“Margery, right?” Dean asked, flashing his charming smile. Though old enough to be his mother, there was something about her that Dean found attractive, though he banished the thought as soon as it formed. 

“That’s me.”

“Tom said there was a tornado sighting nearby pretty recently. We were just walking up from the exit, it’s a good thing it was a false alarm.”

Margery stopped and turned to look Dean in the face, confused.

“We heard it coming in. After you’ve lived here awhile you know the sound, the smell, the feel of a tornado coming close. People on the street got into buildings and we all went down into the storm cellars. It doesn’t look like any damage was done but something came through.”

“No,” Castiel said in his frank way. “I would have known if there was a tornado. Dean would have seen it too.”

Margery stiffened, lips thinning as her smile faded.

“Officer...what was your name?”

“Agents, actually,”Dean interrupted, smiling again to soften the correction and cover up Cas’s manner. Margery nodded, glancing at Castiel for a moment before looking back to Dean.

“Agents Johnson and Young,” Dean continued. “We’re still working on Agent Young’s civilian interaction skills, aren’t we buddy?” 

Castiel blinked at Dean for a moment.

“I was unaware that I was your buddy.” 

Margery looked from Dean to Cas and back. 

“Keep working on those, agent.”

“Oh we will,” Dean assured her. “Now where in town can I get some spark plugs for the old engine?”

“It’s odd that your plugs would need replacing. Not the sort of thing that breaks down a car as much as won’t let it start.”

“I looked under the hood and that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Margery spared him another look, the jeans, the t-shirt, the greasy rag hanging from his pocket.

“Didn’t know FBI men did their own car repair.”

“Budget cuts. They hurt all of us.”

Castiel had halted in front of a small angel figurine displayed in a glass case with others of its type. They were chubby-cheeked children with stubby wings and long eyelashes, dressed in little robes and sandals. He had bent down to examine them and was practically pressing his nose to the glass. 

“You coming?” Dean asked over his shoulder.

“I will be along shortly. I wish to study these further.”

Dean shrugged, a rush of affection shooting through him. Even with all the power and majesty of heaven, Cas was still Cas, fascinated by small things.

“Okay, don’t wander off.”

The angel did not answer, once again focused on the cherubic figurines.

Dean followed Margery along an aisle with a surprising amount of mechanical supplies until she stopped suddenly. Dean nearly ran into her, stopping just soon enough, though his arm caught the curve of her breast. She didn’t seem to notice, though Dean squashed the little bit of heat that ran through him. He’d gotten laid last week and this was damn odd, not to mention unnecessary. 

“Drat, looks like the order I told Henry to put in hasn’t come through. We’ll have to call over to the next town when the phone lines come back up.”

“The phone lines are out?”

“Cells too. Twister must have nudged the tower and knocked down a main line or two. Decent luck we still have power.”

“Yeah, that is lucky.”

“You’ll have to stay the night until we can get some things up and running again. There’s a little motel down the road a mile or so. Only rents out two or three rooms--nobody really visits here. We’re a quiet little place and you can watch corn grow anywhere so most people don’t bother driving all the way out here. Jessie’ll be pleased to have guests, though.”

“Jessie?”

“She runs the motel. Inherited it from her mother a couple summers back. Cancer, poor thing. She does a fine job though. Sells a lot of crafts on the internet when it’s running.”

“Does the motel have wifi?”

“Could be,” Margery shrugged, leading Dean back to the front of the store where Cas crouched on the floor staring at miniature cherub statues. “Depends on the day.:

She stopped a few yards away from Cas.

“If that’s all you need…”

Dean traced her gaze to Cas and suppressed an annoyed grumble.

“Just tell us where to get a good meal around here and we’ll be great.”

“There’s a little place a few doors down, you probably saw it on your way in. Barbara’s?”

“That sounds great. Thanks.”

Seizing Castiel by the sleeve of his trenchcoat, Dean pulled him to his feet. Cas offered little resistance and followed Dean out of the store. Once in the road, Dean glared at the angel.

“Seriously? Could you have been more weird in there?”

“I was unaware it was a competition.”

“What was with the staring? And at the baby angel statues, really Cas? I get that you’re curious but you were freaking her out.”

“Is that how humans think that angels look?”

Dean sighed and began to walk back towards the direction of the car. His bag with clothes and a toothbrush was still in there. Cas trotted after him.

“Is it, Dean?”

“I don’t know, Cas. Maybe some people. I guess other than the wings and the halo, most of us don’t think about it too much. And those of us who’ve seen you know that you don’t look like that. What’s the problem?”

“Perhaps angels would be more respected by humans if we were not depicted as rounded children with improbably wingspans and an excessive amount of eyelashes.”

“Maybe.”

A long walk and a not-long-enough meal later, Dean and Cas stood before a two-story brick house with a wraparound porch and a neon sign hanging from a rafter which glowed ‘vacancy’. Shrugging, Dean walked up the porch steps and Cas followed. Surprisingly, there was a man in front of them at the little desk in the foyer. He was muttering something and Dean felt Cas tense up beside him. 

“What is it?” he muttered to the angel.

“That man is speaking in a language he does not know.”

“How the hell can you tell that?”

“I  _ know _ , Dean.”

“Right, okay. What’s he saying?”

“Desire like a flood, spills across the plains.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.”

A cheery-looking girl in jeans and a scoop neck t-shirt looked at the man and frowned.

“Jerry, did you wander off again?”

The man continued muttering, ignoring her entirely.

“Your wife is going to be worried sick about you. Come on back to the kitchen.”

The muttering man shuffled after her.

“Something odd is going on here, Dean.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“I will watch over you while you sleep tonight.”

“Cas, we’ve talked about this. It’s creepy.”

The angel put a hand on the hunter’s shoulder, forcefully turning him around.

“I will watch over you tonight.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a long moment, trying to ignore the fact that Cas’s hand on his shoulder seemed too warm before he nodded.

“But you can’t be weird about it. Sit across the room or something.”

“Fine.”

The girl trotted back behind the desk and smiled at them. She looked around nineteen, but Dean wasn’t great at judging age. He wondered idly how she would look naked and squashed the thought immediately. Seriously, what was with his brain today?

“Can I help you?”

“One room, two queens please.”

“We’ve got two twins in one room and a queen in another, sorry.”

“The twins, then.”

He paid in cash and Castiel followed him down the hall and to a door which opened onto a little suite--bedroom, bathroom, sink and microwave. A coffeepot perched on a wicker dresser, looking old but not dead yet.

“You would have been much more comfortable in a queen-sized bed, wouldn’t you?”

“Cas, it’s about appearances. Two guys and one bed? People would talk.”

“About sex.”

Sucking air in through his nose, Dean nodded, closing his eyes in exasperation.

“Yeah Cas, about sex.”

“Oh.”

  
  


Sam dialed Dean’s number again, waited for the ring, groaned as it went straight to voicemail.

“What the hell?”

Recorded Dean recited his message and the phone beeped.

“Dean, where are you? It’s been almost twelve hours and you’re not picking up your phone. Neither is Cas. Call me back.”

“How many cell phones does he have?”

“Three...no…four. Cas has the one but he hasn’t answered either. I could try praying to him but I don’t want to call down any of the other angels.”

“That’s not exactly how it works, but okay.”

“What?”

“Specific prayers go to who they’re addressed to unless there’s someone nearby listening in for human prayers.”

“Well I can’t know if anyone’s listening so…”

“I can.”

“Wait...what? You can hear angel radio?”

Michaela looked at him sideways.

“Angel radio?”

“It’s what we call it.”

“I guess it’s as good a name as any but...yeah. I can turn it on and off in my head which is good because occasionally angels get bored and I swear nobody has invented a new joke in Enochian during my lifetime.”

“You understand Enochain?”

“Moms taught me. Former vessels, half-angel kid, it all sorta made sense. Plus, language credit in college.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

She pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park, turned the motor off, flicked on the flashers.

“You can’t just tune in?” Sam asked.

“Well once I tuned in while I was driving and I nearly totalled the car. Apparently there was a hunt for some demon of importance in the area and the angels were basically shouting back and forth. It was like turning on the radio in the car and someone left the volume on the highest it would go. Except it was inside my head.”

“That sounds…”

“Just be quiet for a minute and I’ll see what’s happening up there.”

Sam sat quietly as Michaela stared into space for a few long moments.

“Nobody’s talking around here but give it a few minutes. They like to check in with each other.”

They sat in the car on the gravel shoulder, dust settling on the car’s hood and windshield. The light was fading to orange and red as the sun approached the horizon. Michaela’s stomach growled and a moment later, Sam’s made a similar noise. Still they sat in the car smelling faintly of rosemary and wolfsbane for another thirty minutes until Michaela shook her head and restarted the car.

“It looks like there’s nobody out there so go for it.”

Sam glanced at the car roof and then at Michaela.

“Is this weird? Me...praying to your uncle?”

“My moms were vessels. My dad is an archangel. I hunt monsters for part of my job. I think weird is sort of relative at this point.”

“Right.” He looked skyward again, closed his eyes.

“Castiel, if you’re out there and you can hear me, we’re a bit worried about you and Dean. If you could just pop in and let us know it’s all okay that’d be great.”

The road disappeared under the tires as the sun set. There was no answer.

“Could you ask him? I mean, would it be any different coming from a nephil?”

“If it did, he’d probably still ignore me. That besides, I’m not looking to play hide and seek with a bunch of angels who want to kill me.”

“You said that there wasn’t anyone listening in.”

“There wasn’t when I last checked and there probably isn’t now. But if you’re in the same place as something that wants to kill you or you think you might be near one, you don’t go strolling around shouting about the weather.”

“This is my brother we’re talking about and Castiel. If something happened to them, it’s something bad. Dean’s the best hunter I know and Cas is…”

“A seraph.”

“Well yeah. He’s got power and he’s a warrior. Incapacitating one of them is difficult but both...that’s something big.”

Michaela would have liked to offer explanations as to why the elder Winchester wasn’t answering his phone, something that would make his brother look less broodily worried. Nothing came to mind that wasn’t stupid or an outright lie.

“Look, it’s getting late. I need to eat and we’ll need to fill up again soon. Why don’t we get a map at a gas station and figure out where they could have gone from where we last talked to them. We can go from there.”

Sam nodded grimly and stared out the window for a few minutes before turning to look at Michaela again.

“You said we.”

“What?”

“You said that  _ we _ would go find them. Not me,  _ we _ .”

“Well you can’t do it by yourself. I’m your ride.”

Sam’s mouth twitched in one corner, the hint of a smile even in the current circumstances.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Winch--Sam. What is it?”

“Nothing just...thanks for helping.”

“Well I’m not a total asshole. I can’t exactly ditch you here on the roadside. Besides that, I need your help with this case in California. I didn’t come all the way to Kansas to pick you up and then leave before I got all the answers I needed.”

“There’s an exit coming up, looks like it has gas.”

“How about motels? I can drive for another hour or two but after that I need a break. And you’re not driving, you haven’t slept any more than I have.”

“Once we get a look at the map, the area we’re covering can be limited somewhat. We’ll go from there.”

Michaela nodded, glancing at Sam out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t what anyone would call a ‘team player’ but she wasn’t going to ditch a fellow hunter in need. Especially since she was apparently related to his best friend.


	4. To Give You All My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one...I set the 6-chapter limit before I wrote everything and then realized I'd have to cram a LOT into those six chapters after I was over halfway done. So these last 3 are probably going to be enormous. You've been warned.

It was still early and usually Dean would be taking this time to hit up a few bars, walk around a bit, get a feel for the town. He felt odd though, not quite himself and whether it was the spell or something else entirely, he didn’t want to add alcohol to the mix. Even with the fan going it was too warm. He had already peeled off his flannel overshirt as well as his boots and socks. Sitting on one twin bed, he glanced across the room at Cas. The angel seemed perfectly comfortable in his trench coat, suit, and tie.

“Cas, is it hot in here?”

The angel cocked his head to one side like a damn puppy and Dean resisted the urge to ruffle his hair and further encourage the resemblance. 

“How do you determine what is hot? Comfort with temperature varies from human to human.”

“Do you know what temperature it is?”

“No. Measurement scales are human ways of trying to track the universe. Angels have no need for them.”

“Well I’m dying here so I’m going to go find Jessie and see if the AC is working.”

“You should not go alone. There is something supernatural going on.”

“I’m going to go ask the lady a question, not summon a demon. I’ll be fine. If I’m not back in ten minutes, feel free to come look for me but for God’s sake keep the weapons out of sight. I don’t want them thinking we’re serial killers or something.”

Cas didn’t say anything, only watched Dean pull his socks and boots back on and walk out of the door.

Sitting in the wicker chair in the corner of the room, Cas closed his eyes and listened. Something wasn’t right and he still didn’t know what. With Dean gone, he could try and sense what it was without distraction. Perhaps it was the small quarters, but Dean seemed even more distracting than usual. There was a time when Dean was just a human but that had long since changed. Dean was his friend, and more than that a man he had rather powerful emotions for--affection, love, protectiveness, a slew of others. He had taken part in sexual intercourse when he was human. Admittedly, his partner had tried to kill him the next morning and Dean and Sam had shown up to save him but he knew what arousal felt like. He knew what  _ want _ felt like and though Dean had insisted they never speak of their drunken kiss again, he remembered the feeling of rightness, the rush of want when they parted. Much to his surprise, he felt a warm heaviness between his legs and when he opened his eyes to look down, he noted that his genitals, likely responding to the memory, had shown their interest.

“No,” he told his crotch. “This is inappropriate.”

His body didn’t seem to agree and Cas sighed heavily, closing his eyes again to try and search out the wrongness in the air. 

 

“Hey Jessie, I was just wondering if the AC was out? It seems pretty warm in here is all.”

She looked up at him.

“I just checked the thermostat and it says it’s running fine but I noticed it too. Seems like it’s getting hot. I’ll put the fans on and see how that helps.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Jessie paused, looking him up and down.

“There’s a couple I might need help with. You busy?”

“Nah, I’ve got nothing but time.”

He followed her into the kitchen where she pulled a chair out and climbed up on it to reach the cord on the ceiling fan. As her arms raised so did the hem of her shirt, revealing a line of warm brown skin and a pierced belly button.

Dean licked off the sweat beading on his upper lip. She looked about nineteen but he wasn’t taking any chances. He had to do this smoothly though. 

When she got off the chair she used his shoulder to steady herself and the touch raced through him.

_ Whoa there tiger, _ he thought to himself, and followed her to the next room. This one didn’t need the help of a chair, nor did the next two and Dean felt a little more smug with each room they passed through. She didn’t need his help and that meant she wanted him around for other reasons. When she’d gone through all the fans in the house, she lead him to the door of the room he shared with Cas.

“Does the fan in your room need turning on?”

Dean nodded.

“It’s very hot in there.”

“And your friend?”

“I’m sure he can find something else to do.”

Dean opened the door and found Cas standing on the left of the twin beds, staring at the ceiling.

“Uh...Cas?”

“Can you feel it, Dean?”

“Feel what, Cas?”

“It’s buzzing.”

Mentally reaching for patience, Dean paused before he spoke again, watching Jessie tug at the fan cord so the blades began to spin.

“What’s buzzing, Cas?”

“The air.”

For the first time he seemed to notice Jessie.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“You are the owner, yes?”

“Uh huh.”

“Is the buzzing normal?”

Jessie looked at Dean, then at Cas.

“Uh...is your friend okay?”

“He’s fine,” Dean said, shooting Cas a death stare. “He’s just kind of a weird guy.”

“I do not think this is normal, Dean.”

Jessie seemed to make a decision and patted Dean’s arm.

“If you need anything else, come find me.”

“Jessie, he’s all right, really.”

“I’ll probably be in the lobby.”

“Jessie.”

She closed the door as she exited the room and Dean glared at the angel standing on the bed.

“Are you happy?”

“No, this buzzing is very off-putting. If we can find a way to determine its origin, that would be idea.”

Dean wanted to be angry at Cas for the cockblock, no matter how oblivious the angel was, but he found he couldn’t be. Cas’s blue eyes met his and he frowned.

“Dean, your pupils appear larger than normal.”

Running a hand through his hair, Dean shook his head.

“I’m just going to take a cold shower, okay?”

“But the buzzing?”

“Tomorrow, Cas.”

Under the cold spray, Dean closed his eyes, rubbing shampoo into his hair. As he lathered and rinsed, he considered a quick jerk-off in the shower to hopefully alleviate whatever was causing him to be more horny than usual. Maybe it was the heat? As he shaved, he decided against that particular option, seeing as Cas was nearby and though he seemed to get the idea of leaving Dean alone while he showered, the angel was listening intently to something. The last thing he wanted was Cas hearing him masturbate in the shower. 

Between his legs, his penis twitched in mild interest at the idea and Dean nicked his chin as he looked down, startled.

“Damnit,” he growled. What the hell was wrong with him today? If Cas hadn’t been so weird he probably could have had a quick roll with Jessie and get whatever this was out of his system. As that wasn’t an option, nor was a quick round with his hand, he opted to think instead about what might be causing this magical wave Cas mentioned. If Sammy was here, he could do all his research but he wasn’t.

The phones, Dean suddenly remembered. He hadn’t asked if Jessie had a landline. It wasn’t even eight at night yet, he could go down when he was done showering and ask to use the phone. Rinsing the soap off of his skin, Dean reached for the towel hanging beside the tub and with a sudden whir and click, the power cut out.

“Awesome.”

  
  


Sam and Michaela studied the map spread between them. A coffee cup held down one corner and she marked lines on the paper with a pen she borrowed from the waitress while Sam looked things up on his laptop, jammed against the wall of the booth. Michaela tapped it on the table, nearly a buzz of plastic hitting the tabletop. Sam’s brow was furrowed in worry and Michaela chewed on her lower lip, tracing the capped pen in spirals across the map. The waitress came by again, refilling their coffees, asking if they needed anything. She met Michaela’s eyes for a moment and raised her eyebrows, questioning. Glancing at Sam, Michaela shook her head.

“Is there a motel in the area?” Sam asked. Michaela shot him a look and the waitress frowned.

“I’m new around here but I can ask the cook. Hang on, let me top you off.”

The waitress leaned over to pour coffee and her hand slipped, spilling hot coffee into Michaela’s lap. 

“Shit!”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Let me get you a towel, come on with me.”

Taking her by the hand, the waitress lead her to the back and offered her a towel. As Michaela patted down her jeans, the waitress put a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you need help, honey?”

“We’re looking for two men, about his age.”

“You didn’t look happy to be there. Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I get girls in here...don’t much want to be here. Can’t get away from who their with, need someone to get them out. Thought you were one of those.”

“I’m not but...thanks. I’ve known girls who could have used somebody like you.”

The waitress shrugged, looked at her shoes.

“I’m all right. You said you’re looking for someone though. Maybe I can help.”

“Two guys. Around 6 foot, one of them dark hair, suit and a trenchcoat and the other one wearing flannel and looks like he’d bang anything that moved.”

The waitress chuckled.

“I’d remember a pair like that. Nobody like that around here. What happened?”

“We’re both heading to the same place and they got ahead of us. Their phones aren’t picking up, they haven’t called. We’re getting worried.”

“That’s what the map’s for?”

“Trying to narrow it down where they were.”

“All right. Let me know  if there’s anything I can do.”

Michaela pulled out her wallet and opened it, pulling out several large bills. She pressed them into the waitress’s hand.

“Use this to help out the next few, okay? And keep a bit for you too.”

The waitress nodded, flipping through the wad of hundreds. 

“And use it to cover the bill too?”

The waitress nodded again, still stunned silent.

“Thank you.”

When she slid back into the booth, Sam looked up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just cleaned up some coffee. Asked the waitress if she’d seen anything.”

“Get any motel recommendations?”

“We’re not staying at a motel.”

“What happened to you not driving because you needed a break? And me being too tired?”

“I’m drinking coffee. We’re taking a break right now. I’ll be okay for another six hours.”

“Six hours?”

“I’ll get a cup to go. You can drive later if you look up to it.”

Sam shrugged and pointed to the highway they were on.

“Most likely, they stayed on the road. They could have gotten off here and shot north a bit but even speeding, they’d only get as far as the state line. If they got off for food or gas there’s a good number of exits we can check. I can narrow it down, though.”

“How?”

Michaela lowered her voice.

“Now don’t freak out, but how do you feel about a little spell?”

Sam lowered his voice.

“A little spell? Are you a witch too?”

“I’m sorry, I thought we’d gotten through the prejudiced asshole phase around when you  _ tied me to a chair. _ ”

“Well that depends, are you going around casting spells all the time? Have you made any deals with demons?”

“I’d expect this from the angel or maybe your brother, but seriously? Think about that question.”

Sam ran his hands through his hair.

“Look, I’m sorry. Dean’s missing, Cas is too, nobody’s answering. I’m freaking out a little.”

“That’s fine, just remember who’s side I’m on. I get a little antsy when you start making accusations.”

Sam licked his lips, took another sip of coffee.

“What kind of spell.”

“Tracking. Nothing complicated. Needs a map, which we have. Some ingredients I have in the trunk of my car for the rest. And if you have anything of Dean’s, that’d be good.”

“Uhhh,” Sam patted his pockets. “I got nothing.”

“I’ll just need a little blood then.”

“What?”

“You’re a blood relative. If you don’t have anything of Dean’s then blood is the best alternative.”

“You think I’m going to just give you some blood?”

“A few drops. You can read over everything first and check it over. And it’s not like you won’t be there. You can say stop whenever. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you were a Girl Scout.”

“I was shitty at selling cookies but yeah. So what?”

“So I don’t feel super comfortable giving my blood to someone who isn’t human, okay?”

Michaela flinched visibly and chin tightened, lips thinned, hands curled around the cup of coffee in front of her.

“Michaela,” Sam began awkwardly.

“I think you’ve made your feelings clear, Winchester. We can do this your way.”

Seeing the waitress peer out from the kitchen, she gestured for her to come over.

“Can I get the biggest styrofoam to-go cup that I can get? I’m taking some for the road.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

When she left, Sam rolled his sleeve up, put his arm on the table.

“I’ll do it.”

“You already said you weren’t comfortable with it.”

“I can be uncomfortable and find Dean or we could waste hours, even days looking for him when he and Cas are in trouble. I’ve done worse things to protect my brother.”

Once the waitress returned, Michaela had already folded up the map. She thanked the other woman again, exited the building with Sam following after, still looking uncomfortable with the whole situation. He looked even more uncomfortable when she folded down the back seats of her car so they lay sort-of flat, and she lay the map out over it. 

“Get in.”

“Why are we doing this in the car?”

“Because I have wards acid-etched into the metal of the frame, charms and hex bags in the seats, and more wards stitched in. Magic draws attention and I don’t like attention.”

Sam got into the car and watched Michaela pull things out of her trunk--chalk, several small bowls, some herbs, a couple of bottles of liquids and powders, unlabeled. She handed him a knife with a cloth wrapped around the hilt.

“I need ten drops. More is fine, less is not. Sterilize it, use the rag to tie off the cut when you’re done. First aid kit is under the passenger seat if you’d prefer a band-aid.”

She began crushing chalk methodically with a mortar and pestle, perched on the folded-down back seat next to the map. Her entire body curved over the bowl, half in concentration and half because the roof of the car kept her from sitting upright. Once Sam handed her the bowl she set it to one side and handed him a piece of paper.

“This is the spell.”

While he read she arranged the herbs and powders along the map in a circle, dripped something over it, and placed the bowl with the blood carefully on the map. The bowl of crushed chalk sat in her lap. She looked to Sam, who nodded.

Chanting, she nicked her knee with a pocket knife and added a drop of her blood to the powdered circle. Continuing the chant, she dumped the chalk powder over the map and to finish, she lit a match and set the powdered circle aflame.

In a rush, the powder settled away from the map in two places, leaving perfect unmarked circles. Michaela leaned in to examine the map.

“This circle is where we are, so that’s got to be you. The other one is Dean.”

“How far is he?”

“Looks like a few hundred miles. The town is called…” she squinted at the map, “Amberton.”

  
  


Dean used a flashlight to make his way down the hall.

“Jessie?”

“Hang on a minute.” Her voice came from somewhere else and it sounded shaky. A moment later, she came through a door which lead down to somewhere dark--probably the basement, holding a kerosene lantern up with one hand. Her face was drawn and she forced a smile.

“I just checked the fuses and everything’s fine. A line must be down.”

“How?”

“We had a drunk driver in 2013 take out a couple of poles with his semi truck. Could be something like that. It could be a lot of things.”

“Are you okay?”

Jessie ignored the question.

“Sorry for the inconvenience. Seems you got all the bad luck this time around.”

Dean decided against asking again and changed tactics.

“Do you have a landline?”

“Sure do.”

“Can I use it to make a call?”

Jessie walked over to the desk, lifted the receiver of a phone hanging on the wall, miles of curled cord swaying from the movement of being lifted. She made a face.

“Looks like the phones are down too.”

“How will you get things fixed then?”

“In the morning someone will drive over to Gainsville.”

“So until then…”

“We’ll be here.”

Dean leaned against the wall casually.

“So you’ll be here all night?”

“Yup.”

“Are you busy?”

In the faint glow of her kerosene lantern, he could see her smile.

“Actually, I was just thinking that I was getting bored.”

Outside, an engine drew closer and Jessie tilted her head.

“That’ll be Hunter.”

“Who’s Hunter?”

“I’ve known him since we were in diapers. He’s probably just worried about me.”

“Worried?”

The door swung open.

“Jessie, you all right?” Something about his tone sounded protective and Dean found himself conflicted, torn between jealousy at the guy who was taking away Jessie’s attention and a sense of familiarity, like he was meeting an old friend. As in most cases, his gut won.

“Hunter, it’s just a power outage.”

“You’ve been scared of the dark since I can remember.”

“Has she?” Dean chimed in and Hunter fumbled with something before he clicked on a camping lantern.

“Who are you?”

“Dean.”

Hunter looked from him to Jessie his eyes narrowed. Something in Dean flickered. This was one of those guys who had been a big deal in high school and hadn’t gotten over it, he could sense it in the way Hunter stood, spoke, looked at him. Any chances of them getting along swirled down the drain.

“Maybe you should run along to your room.”

Dean offered his most charming smile as he considered punching the other man in the face.

“Maybe you should mind your own business.”

Hunter scowled at him.

“Clear out.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty comfortable right here. I think I’ll hang out for awhile.”

Hunter took a step towards him, clearly intending to intimidate Dean. While Hunter was muscular and had an inch or two on him, Dean no longer found most humans particularly impressive. After killing angels, demons, and monsters, humans were no longer particularly worrisome. Dean looked him up and down.

“I’m sure that in this town you’re something big, but I’ve seen bigger. Do yourself a favor and back off.”

Hunter chuckled.

“Do myself a favor?” He then made a very crude suggestion involving Dean’s mother.

Somehow in a blur, Dean found himself kneeling over Hunter with a bleeding lip. Hunter’s eye was beginning to blacken and he had what looked like a broken nose. Jessie was shrieking at him to leave Hunter alone and Cas had materialized and was watching with interest.

“Leave! Just get out of here!”

“Jessie, come on now.” Hunter sounded a little nasal but otherwise all right. “I started it. They got nowhere else to go, let them keep the rooms.”

Jessie wavered.

“Fine. But I want you gone in the morning.”

Dean moved away from Hunter, looking at his bleeding knuckles with confusion. As Jessie helped up the other man, he turned towards Cas, looking puzzled. The angel’s expression was no help and Dean walked slowly back towards their room.

“I was going to tell you,” Cas said calmly as Dean held his lip to his sleeve to try and staunch the bleeding. The hunter sat on one of the twin beds as the angel sat on the other, facing him.

“The power outage was most definitely the product of another magic wave.”


	5. So I Can Watch Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the line of asterisks, this fic is rated M. If you're not down for that, that's fine, I'll catch you up next chapter. After the asterisks, it is back to the regular T rating. You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATED M BEFORE THE ASTERISKS THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING

_ He knew he was dreaming because Cas was sitting in the bunker’s kitchen in a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. His dark hair was sleep-rumpled and the scruff on his chin only added to the just-woke-up look. Castiel had learned the importance of not walking around half-dressed long ago but Dean didn’t feel the need to point it out. As he thought about it, he realized he was dressed the same way.  _

_ “You had breakfast yet?” _

_ Cas shook his head, rubbing his neck gently. _

_ “You didn’t have to bite so hard.” _

_ “You were into it,” Dean said, the words out of his mouth before he could think about it and Cas offered him a slow smile, his eyes promising something that Dean both wanted and feared. _

_ “Shy all of a sudden?” _

_ The angel sauntered over in a very un-Cas-like fashion, draping warm arms over Dean’s bare shoulders, pressing a scratchy kiss to his cheek. _

_ “Cas, you don’t bruise. Your grace fixes it all up.” _

_ “Maybe I like the marks,” the other man purred into his ear and Dean felt heat slide down his spine. He knew somehow that Sam wasn’t in the bunker, in that way you simply know things in dreams. Cas was running his palms down Dean’s chest, the lower belly where abdominal muscles tightened on contact. He could feel himself getting hard and he didn’t mind. Something about it seemed right. _

_ “What do you want, Dean?” Cas purred in his ear and Dean gasped as the angel slid both hands under the waistband of the boxers, caressing him.  _

_ “Shit, Cas,” he breathed. “Warn a guy, would you?” _

_ Cas hummed against his ear, amused.  _

_ “And ruin my fun?” _

_ The dream shifted and Dean didn’t know how they were in a cornfield holding drawn weapons but they were, shifting through tall green stalks at a slow pace. Cas glanced at Dean, who nodded. Moments later, a man slipped through the corn in front of them. _

_ “I think they’re gone, but you’d better stay with me,” the man said. He looked familiar. _

_ “Yeah,” Dean heard himself agreeing. The man was safe and he was strong. He was attractive and Dean had always secretly admired him. And he’d just saved him--them. He glanced around for Cas and found his friend missing. _

_ “Cas?” _

_ “You don’t need him,” the man assured Dean. “I’ve got you.” _

_ The man offered Dean his hand and when Dean took it, he was suddenly more aroused than he’d ever been. He was hard to the point of it being painful and desperately in need of friction, of anything to help with the deliciously terrible pressure in his groin. God, he just needed some relief, just needed some relief and _

 

Dean opened his eyes and found himself lying in a single bed in the motel. He had been dreaming, right. It was unbearably hot, he could feel sweat on his neck, his stomach. Lying on his back, the bulge in his boxers was clearly visible even with the blankets. It was just barely painful, tight and full and needing something, anything, to give him some relief.

“Cas,” he gasped and the angel stood from his seat in the corner of the room.

“Dean, are you injured?” His eyes narrowed and he pulled back the covers to look Dean up and down, the hunter in his boxers and a tee shirt, skin sweat-soaked. 

“Cas!” Dean tried to snap but it came out more like a moan.

“Dean? What is it?” 

_ Touch me Cas. Touch me. God, I need your hands on me right now. _

“Dream,” he managed.

“A nightmare?”

Dean licked his lips.

“I’m going to get some water.”

Stepping away from the bed, Cas shook his head.

“I will bring you some.”

“Cas you don’t have to.”

“You are clearly unwell, Dean. It is no struggle for me.”

The angel walked into the bathroom and Dean heard him pick up a glass. Closing his eyes for a moment, he slipped his hand over his erection and gave it an open-palmed stroke through his boxers. The very movement made his entire body shudder with pleasure. What he really needed was to take care of this. The tap was running, but there was no way that he had time for a quickie, not without having Cas come back to a mess or in the middle of him--shit.

The thought of Cas watching him jerk off made his boxers feel even tighter. No, no, no, this was not something he was doing. He was not going to have that discussion with Cas.

“Dean, I have the water.”

Castiel came out of the bathroom and his brow furrowed.

“Why are you covering your genitals? Are you in pain?”

Dean removed his hand from his crotch faster than he’d moved in years.

“Can I have that water?”

“Perhaps I should look at it? Wait...this is an invasion of privacy, isn’t it? If I am examining your genitals for medical reasons is it still inappropriate?”

He handed Dean the glass and Dean gulped it down, Cas’s eyes burning into his skin.

“Cas,” he began, but the angel stepped forward to take the glass and Dean found himself eye-level with the zipper of his pants, which were also tented somewhat.

_I’m not doing this._  
“You okay, Cas?”

“I am fine.”

“You’ve uh...got a bit of a boner going on there.”

_ Seriously?  _

“Yes, I have been aroused for quite some time. It is disconcerting but not altogether unpleasant.”

“You know you’re supposed to call a doctor for an erection lasting for more than four hours.”

Cas looked at the clock.

“I don’t believe it has been that long.”

“You know how to get rid of one, don’t you?”

“A doctor?”

“An erection.”

_ You are not having this conversation. This is not happening right now. _

“Sexual intercourse.”

“There’s other ways, Cas.”

The angel looked puzzled.

“Go get a washcloth from the bathroom. Get it a little wet first.”

_ You still have time to back out. _

He was past turned on, past feeling a little hot, past ready to fuck something until he could get sweet release. When Cas came back, offering Dean the washcloth, the hunter shook his head.

“It’s for after, Cas.”

“After what?”

“Do angels masturbate?”

Cas paused.

“I am unsure of the sexual practices of other angels.”

“And you?”

“I do not have any...practices.”

“Would you like to learn?”

Cas met his eyes seriously. Even when discussing something like this, he was unfailingly frank to the point of bluntness. It wasn’t innuendo, it was just Cas wanting to know something. 

“I am always interested in learning, Dean.”

Dean nodded, his hands drifting to the waistband of his boxers.

“I’m going to slide these down a little, okay?”

The angel nodded.

The rub of elastic against his erection was a pleasant rush and he shoved them down a little further, out of the way. Usually he used lotion or oil or something to make the slide easier but the tip of his erection was already leaking clear fluid and he wanted to orgasm so badly that he was okay with not having any lube to work with.

“Just...watch.”

Cas nodded again as Dean curled one hand around his erection and began to slide his hand up and down the shaft. Pleasure was almost instantaneous and he bit back whatever noise was trying to escape his mouth, instead squeezing himself tighter. It wasn’t enough, and he loosened his hand again to make it easier, so the strokes were fast. He could feel his hips jerking a little and he lifted them, fucking into his own hand. It was so good, God, it was so good but he wasn’t there yet and he wanted to be, more than he’d ever wanted anything.

Looking to one side, he saw Cas, eyes wide with fascination, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with something--lust? 

He wanted to say something but Cas murmured his name, so softly it was almost inaudible and between that and the way he was looking at Dean, all of that on top of the furious pace his hips were setting drove him to exactly where he wanted to be--release.

He kept fucking into his fist as the waves hit him. His eyes closed and there was a sigh, ragged and wanting, that tore from his lips. There might have been a pleased groan, he wasn’t sure. He kept going until the waves receded and then he let himself relax, his body sinking into the bed. His eyes were still closed and after a few moments, Castiel asked in a hushed voice.

“Do you need the cloth now?”

Reaching out a hand, Dean nodded and when Cas placed the washcloth into it, he opened his eyes, looking down at the mess he’d spurted onto his stomach. With the washcloth he wiped it off and stood.

“I gotta rinse this off or it’ll get really gross…” Dean’s legs felt pleasantly wobbly, the rush of orgasm endorphins making everything feel relaxed, good.

“Will I also need it?”

Dean paused. Even taken care of, the idea of watching Cas was a turn-on. 

_ You haven’t had your fill of weird gay shit for one day?  _ a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his dad demanded and for once he smothered it. 

“Let me wash it off first.”

Castiel nodded, but he was in the exact same place when Dean reemerged.

“Cas, you’re going to have to take your pants off at least.”

“Of course.”

Businesslike, Castiel unzipped his slacks and let them drop to his ankles.

“And it will work better sitting or lying down.”

The angel plopped onto the other twin bed, slacks puddled over his dress shoes. 

“And you’re going to come all over your shirt if you leave it on. Just...strip, okay?”

The angel shucked his clothes off in the same no-nonsense fashion he had removed his dress slacks. Trenchcoat first, sliding off one side of the bed and onto the floor.The tie was loosened, removed. The dress shirt unbuttoned, dropped. Undershirt peeled off. In his socks and boxers, Cas looked at Dean.

“Is this sufficient?”

His mouth was suddenly dry and he vividly remembered their drunken kiss on the couch. How long ago had that been?

“You just need to get the boxers out of the way. You don’t have to take them all the way off if you don’t want to.”

Cas slid out of the boxers so they joined his slacks. In only black dress socks, he again looked at Dean.

“Now you just need to wrap your hand around your dick and...well you know.”

He was teaching an angel to masturbate. This had to be blasphemy or something. He was turned on by the thought of an angel masturbating. Was that double blasphemy? Here in the dark of the motel, no power and no one awake, the moonlight coming through the window, it felt like a bubble, small and protected, dreamlike. It wasn’t connected to the outside world, it seemed. Here they were apart somehow. 

His musings stopped as Cas wrapped a hand around his erection and shuddered, his eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s...very good.”

“You haven’t even moved yet.”

Biting his lower lip, Cas began stroking himself, his hand slowly rising and falling. Little gasps escaped his mouth. Dean watched the angel’s stomach muscles tighten and loosen, watched a flush rise to his face and chest, watched the angel’s hand speed up. 

“Good,” Castiel gasped and Dean nodded, too entranced to think of anything to say except a hoarse, 

“Yeah, Cas.”

Castiel’s body began to jerk a little.

“There you go Cas. Keep going until it stops.”

The angel’s hand was moving fast and his eyes were still shut, noises that were almost whimpers rising from within his throat. In a rush, his whole body tensed and as he reached release, he did as Dean told him and stroked until the waves faded. When it was all over, he flopped backwards onto the bed, panting.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

After a minute, Dean cleared his throat.

“You’re gonna want to clean that up before it dries.”

“My body feels very loose.”

Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. That’s what happens. Clean yourself up.”

Cas halfheartedly accepted the washcloth and after cleaning off his belly, padded into the bathroom. Dean heard the water turn on, heard Cas rinsing out the cloth. A minute or two later he was back.

Standing in the middle of the room, Cas eyed his clothes.

“I don’t really need those,” he said aloud and when Dean didn’t answer, he looked at the hunter in the other twin bed. His face was fully relaxed, eyes closed, breathing slow and deep.

“Goodnight Dean.”

He waited perhaps an hour to get dressed and then sat back in the chair in the corner of the room, waiting for dawn. 

 

***************************************************************************************************

 

As Michaela drove, Sam held the map on his lap, idly tracing the lines of roads across stretches of midwestern land, his phone screen acting as a light. He didn’t speak, nor did she. There was no  light for miles except the little screen and the occasional flash of headlights, cars going the other direction. Around them, cornfields and small farmhouses slept, and above them, stars glittered in the dark sky. There wasn’t a town for miles, nothing but the hum of wheels on the road, the hissing hush of wind through corn stalks. The cell phone dimmed and shut off the screen to save battery.

An hour had passed in silence after Michaela cleaned up the spell ingredients, replaced her bottles and bags, folded the seats back into place. It might have been awkwardness on Sam’s part but Michaela was mulling things over, not really thinking as much as allowing the events of the past few days simmer in her mind, turning over whatever came to the surface. A deer paused on the edge of the road and Michaela braked as it considered crossing, froze in place with her headlights reflecting in its eyes, not even twitching as she drove by. In the red of her taillights, she could see the deer standing there as she drove away, still uncertain. 

“We’re going to get there around three in the morning,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “Dean’s probably going to be asleep.”

“Finding his car should be easy. And it’s not like he strays far from it.”

“So what, we park by the Impala until he comes out?”

“Unless you have a better idea. I can sleep in this car no problem. If you’re cramped I can fold down a seat or something to give you leg room.”

“We could just get motel rooms.”

“The car is warded.”

“Hotel rooms have things like toilets and hot water.”

“What kind of hunter are you? You can’t pee in the woods and do a wipedown with a wet napkin?”

Sam paused to stare.

“Is that how you usually travel?”

“I sleep in my car a lot on quick hunts. If I’ll be around a few nights, I might get a hotel room and ward it but usually it’s easier to sleep in the car and just shower at the next truck stop.”

“We don’t usually ward the motel unless there’s something definitely after us. Otherwise, we use fake information.”

“Your brother’s car is pretty distinctive. And weren’t you guys on the news a few years back?”

“Well yes, but that was an exception.”

“And you have a book series about you.”

“How did you know about that?”

“I can hear angel radio. There was chatter about the Winchester Gospels at one point so I went looking. Does everyone you sleep with die? That seems to be a trend.”

If there had been streetlights, she may have been able to see Sam’s expression but there weren’t and she couldn’t. Instead, she had to wait for Sam to talk again.

“I swear, that series have given us more than enough trouble.”

“Not necessarily well-written, but it made a few things clearer.”

“Like what?”

“How to get the keys to the bunker, for one thing. Your brother will sleep with anything with two legs who thinks he’s funny.”

“Thanks for that image.”

“Like you didn’t know.”

The miles rolled by and Sam could feel the beginnings of tiredness pulling at him. He turned his phone screen back on and pointed it at the map. As the headlights of their car flashed across a sign, Sam read it and looked back at the map.

“Looks like we’ve got,” he paused to measure with his fingers and compare it to the map scale, doing a mental calculation. “Another hundred and eighty miles or so. So, a little over two hours?”

Michaela glanced at the speedometer and pressed the gas a little harder.

“Sounds about right. If you want to try and sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Sam shrugged.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

His head started nodding about half an hour later and Michaela considered saying something, telling him where the lever to lean the seat back was. She didn’t. Another twenty minutes and Sam Winchester’s head was lolled against the window, mouth open, hair in his face. Occasionally lit up by the lights over highway signs, he was clearly out cold. Sleeping in cars seemed to be a habit of his--Dean was always the driver and though his brother occasionally pulled pranks, he was safe in a moving car. Michaela didn’t wake him. She approached the exit number for Amberton and as she pulled onto the ramp, her lights caught a black outline, one which was instantly familiar. Pressing the brakes hard, Michaela jolted Sam awake and pulled onto the side of the road behind the Impala.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

She put the car into park but left it running. Once the door opened, a rush of  _ something _ hit her and her hand immediately slid to the knife in her belt. The air was warmer and as she glanced over at Sam she felt a wave of familiarity. Suspicious, she tried to shake it off.

“Something’s up,” she stage-whispered and Sam nodded, pulling out a gun. They approached the Impala, Sam using a penlight to shine through the windows. The car was empty. Michaela tugged gently on one of the door handles. Locked. Empty and locked.

“Maybe they ran out of gas?”

“Dean wouldn’t leave his baby on an exit ramp. He’s got Cas with him. Cas could zap to the nearest station and fill up a gas can.”

“What could take on an angel and your brother?”

“Nothing good, but there’s no sign of a struggle. He locked the car. There’s not a scratch on it, the lights are off, everything inside looks like it was put away. The glove box is closed. He had a really good reason to walk away.”

Intelligence was attractive in a man, Michaela thought to herself. Sam’s height was a smidgen excessive and his hair was longer than she usually preferred--she could see why the demon king called him “moose”--but altogether, he was a fairly attractive package. She didn’t say any of this out loud, only kept her hand on the hilt of her blade.

“We’ve got a couple of hours until sunrise and we know he’s coming back here. Might as well wait in the car.”

She wondered idly how Sam would look without his shirt.  The thought swam into her head just as the first few had and something in the back of her mind was alarmed by these thoughts. Nothing she could put her finger on, just a general unease, distrust of the mood itself. They returned to the car and once the door closed, the mood vanished. Quick as extinguishing a candle, she felt like herself again. That was even more suspicious. 

She opened the car door again, felt the rush of warmth. Desire. That was it. She closed the door again. It was gone.

Sam stared at her as she opened and closed the door several more times.

“What are you doing?”

“Something weird is going on in this area. Can’t you feel it?”

“What?”

“When I open the door and break the seal of some of my protection spells, I can feel a difference, can’t you?”

“What?”

She opened the door again.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

“What?”

“Right now. The door is open. Do you want to have sex with me?”

“What? No!”

She closed the door.

“Seriously?”

Sam looked sheepish.

“When the door is open there’s something different.”

“I think it’s an attraction spell.”

“I thought that was a one-person deal? I had a love spell on me once by...never mind.”

“Well this one was cast by someone very powerful, very vague, very stupid, or hell, some combination of the three. One of the ward sets or the hex bags or something I have in here keeps it out when the doors are closed but I’d guess there’s an attraction spell of some kind that spilled into the general area.”

“So once we get out of the car, we’re succeptible.”

“Unless I can figure out what is protecting us, yes. I’ll call my moms in the morning.”

Pulling out her phone, Michaela tapped the screen. It didn’t respond. She tapped again, tried pressing the power button. Nothing.

“Is your phone working?”

Sam went through the same series of motions before frowning at her.

“No.”

“We’re safe in the car for now, but there’s no way this is a coincidence.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Sleep until sunrise, then we’ll drive into town and I’ll see what I can do. There are a couple of things in the trunk. Don’t know if they’ll work but shit like this works better if you’re tired or hungry or your defenses are low in some area.”

“You’re going to just lean back and sleep?”

“This car is the safest place you’ve ever been except maybe that bunker. The windows are damn near unbreakable. It’s warded a hundred ways to heaven. There’s enough magic and weapons to kill two of every last monster we know of and then a couple extra for fun. It’s glamoured to look like a shitbucket no one would want to steal. So yes, Sam. I’m going to sleep. I don’t know what’s happening once it’s light and I’d rather be ready than tired.”

She turned the engine off, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

A moment later, she heard the creak of the passenger seat leaning back. She smiled faintly and was asleep.


	6. As I Take It All Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things make sense, some things don't, and morning-afters are awkward.

The light woke her and she glanced over to look at Sam Winchester, folded into his reclined seat and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He mumbled something at her.

“What?”

“You said this thing was a fortress on wheels.”

“I mean, basically. So what?”

“It gets flat tires. What sort of fortress can get flat tires?”

Michaela felt her face heat up and she studied her hands momentarily, warm brown skin with a few lighter lines where scars had faded. She finger-combed her hair and for a moment, focusing on a tangle near her left ear.

“Apparently there’s not a pop-proof tire spell. I can ward a room, a car, a closet. I could probably ward a boat if I had to. Apparently tires aren’t something anyone came up with a spell for and I’m no witch. I stay far away from magic I don’t understand.”

“No spell for tires.”

“No.”

Sam squinted at the rising sun.

“He probably won’t be there yet, but we need to find which diner in town has a decent breakfast special. That’s where Dean will be first thing in the morning.”

Michaela pulled her car keys out of their resting place in the cupholder and turned them in the ignition. The engine coughed a little but turned over and they rolled back onto the asphalt, up the exit ramp, and towards Amberton.

“What time is it?” Michaela scanned the signs on the main road.

“Quarter to seven.”

“Nothing’s open yet. This is farm country. They should have been up at least an hour, more likely two or three by now.”

There was a stoplight at the intersection of the main street and another one, but none of the circles were illuminated, no red, green, or yellow shining to signal what to do.

“The power’s out.” Sam rolled down the window to look out.

“Close it,” Michaela snapped. With a flash of realization crossing his face, Sam did.

“Opening the windows breaks the wards too?”

“We need to find somewhere to park. I’ve got some protective crap in the trunk. It’s not going to turn the attraction spell off, but if whoever is throwing this magic around tries something nasty, we’ve got them.”

“Just pull up next to the curb. That seems to be the standard.”

Once parked, Michaela climbed into her back seat without opening the doors and tugged on the back of one of the seats.

“Shit, I forgot. The release is in the trunk. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door opened, the wave of wanting hit Michaela like a punch to the gut. It was much worse than it had been on the exit ramp. Looking at Sam, her body hummed pleasantly. Instead of looking at him again, she opened the trunk and took care of folding the seat down before she got back in. As the door closed, Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

“You can really feel it here,” Sam said. “Last night was nothing compared to this.”

“We’re probably closer to the casting site.”

“Does that matter?”

“It shouldn’t! This is magic but it’s messy. Usually witches are very precise. You do what you need to do, don’t waste power doing any more than necessary. Whoever cast this basically dumped the spell on the area like a bucket of paint. I assume that it would be stronger closer to where it was cast, but I’m flying blind here.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it either.”

Michaela dug through a grey metal box full of what looked like costume jewelry and a second one that of little balls of cloth that resembled badly-made potpourri bags more than they did hex bags. Sam’s face conveyed his opinion of them clearly enough. Michaela ignored it in favor of rifling through the boxes more.

“The problem is, I have no idea what we’re dealing with. Witches can be up to a hundred different things and each of them needs a different remedy. Here, just put this on.”

Sam took the necklace and made a face. It was gaudy in the fullest sense of the word--gold chain with large links and a sheen that screamed ‘fake’. 

“And what will this do exactly?”

“It should put a magical buffer around you, not enough to keep the spell from hitting you but enough to reduce the intensity. Supposedly.”

“Supposedly?”

“I stole it.”

“You stole it?”

“Are we playing an echoing game?”

“An echoing game?”

Michaela stared at him.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“Just an ass, or so I’m told. Now about this amulet. You stole it. It might work.”

“Yes.”

“Any important side effects? I should know about?”

“I’ve worn it twice and nothing bad happened.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m not dead or missing any limbs.”

“Why am I sensing a but, here?”

“Because you’re a pessimist?”

“Michaela.”

“Wear it, don’t wear it, your choice. Just remember that you’re not allowed to sleep with anyone until we’re out of this town.”

“That isn’t going to be a problem.”

“If you say so.”

Slipping rings onto three of her fingers, Michaela checked the knife at her belt and then strapped a pistol to her ankle. As Sam watched, she pulled out a dull-looking handbag from under the driver’s seat, checked through it, and then nodded.

“I’m good to go if you are.”

“What’s in there?”

“Salt, holy water, waterproof matches, chalk, extra clip, iron dagger, hairbrush, makeup kit, bobby pins, tampons, wallet, notebook, a couple of pens, a few other odds and ends.”

Nodding, Sam opened his door and stepped out into the street. Shrugging, Michaela pulled the purse over one shoulder and exited the car, locking it behind her. Even standing there, she was mildly turned on. The caster had a lot of juice and she glanced at Sam, who was already looking back at her.

“You all right?”

Sam swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing momentarily and he nodded.

“I don’t think the necklace is doing anything.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

They began walking down the street and when they came to the door of the first business establishment--a law office--Michaela knocked on the glass door and when no one answered, gave it an experimental tug before stepping back and shaking her head.

The next three doors were locked and when Sam tried the door to the diner, he was surprised that it opened, a bell ringing as it swung inward.

“Hello?”

“Power’s out here too, but I’m getting the grill out and cooking on that. Grab a table, seems the whole town’s running late.”

Michaela followed Sam into the diner and grabbed a table next to the window.

“Do you have a landline here?” Sam called back and a woman, mid-forties came out from the kitchen.

“It’s down. I don’t know what’s going on but everything’s gone down since yesterday afternoon. Cell service, later landlines, then power. Running theory is a malfunction at one of the power stations or some moron crashed a semi into the power and phone lines again. Last time it happened, it took us three days to get power back and it was in the middle of January.”

She paused to study Sam and Michaela.

“You two aren’t from around here.”

“Just stopping on our cross-country tour,” Michaela offered her a smile, which the woman returned.

“Let me start the grill heating up and get you some water. I can make coffee or tea but I want to keep the fridge and freezers closed as long as I can.”

“Water is fine,” Sam assured her.

When she went back into the kitchen, Sam looked at Michaela, lowered his voice.

“Was it me, or did she seem totally fine?”

“Maybe she doesn’t find you attractive. Maybe she doesn’t like tall men, or men with long hair, or men at all. But yes, she did seem like the spell wasn’t affecting her.”

“Could she be the caster?”

“Maybe. I don’t really know how to tell unless she actually does something.”

“Great.”

The woman came back carrying two glasses of water and with two menus tucked under one arm.

“I forgot to say, I’m Kate.”

“Michaela,” Michaela offered as she skimmed the menu.

“Sam,” Sam said.

“And you two are on some kind of cross-country trip?”

“Actually,” Sam began. “We were travelling with a couple of men, one in a suit and a trenchcoat, the other one probably in jeans and flannel.”

“You mean The FBI Agents...Johnson and Young?”

“We’re doing a profile piece about FBI agents. How there is a disparity between what people think they do and what they actually do.” Michaela fished a notebook from her purse as well as a pen.

“Sounds interesting.”

“Not as much as you’d think. So far, they seem to do a lot of paperwork. Problem is, we lost them and then our cell phones were down. We hoped they’d stopped here.”

“Well they did. And since I’d guess I’m the only place open for breakfast, they’re probably going to head back this way shortly. Biscuits are out right now, but anything you can fry or grill I can make.”

“Actually I think we’ll wait for the agents to get here, but thank you.” Sam offered a smile, which the woman returned.

As the words escaped his mouth, the bell on the door jingled and both he and Michaela turned to see two figures coming inside.

  
  


Dean woke up mildly horny and moderately confused. He’d had a dream--an incredibly vivid incredibly sexual dream--involving him showing Cas how to masturbate. Morning wood was the norm for him so the fact that he was a little horny didn’t phase him. How incredibly vivid his dream was did, though. Usually he could feel dreams slipping away as he woke up but this one was very clear and had no signs of fading out. Sitting up in bed he looked over at the chair in the corner where Cas was sitting, staring at him.

“I thought we’d covered that watching me sleep was creepy?”

“Your expectations are growing increasingly inconsistent,” the angel replied, perhaps with more of that dry tone than usual.

“Oh yeah?” Dean swung his legs over one side of the bed and cracked his neck back and forth.

“I am allowed to watch you masturbate but not allowed to watch you sleep?”

Dean turned so fast that he knocked his elbow against the bathroom doorframe with a crack.

“What?”

“I find it odd, the things I am and am not allowed to do.”

“No no, what did you say before that?”

“That I find your rules inconsistent, and I already find humans confusing.”

“Not that part Cas the part about,” he swallowed, rubbing his sore elbow with one hand, “the part about watching me masturbate.”

“You also watched me,” Cas replied gravely. “Does this mean that if I slept, you would not be allowed to watch?”

“I thought…” he shook his head. “I’m going to brush my teeth, my mouth tastes like ass.”

He shut the door almost gingerly and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t a dream. He had jacked off while Cas watched and then watched Cas strip down and do the same. It wasn’t a weird sexual dream, it was something that happened. Something he did.

Dean turned on the faucet and held his toothbrush under the stream of water before shoving it in his mouth and scrubbing fiercely at his teeth. His thoughts were a blur, not words even, but whatever the mental equivalent of TV static was. His head felt weird and fuzzy like he’d had a drink but he just woke up and hadn’t had any the night before either. Spitting into the sink with more force than necessary, he turned on the shower before lifting the toilet seat to pee.

He and Cas had done...something. It wasn’t sex, hell they didn’t even touch each other. But guys didn’t jack off in front of each other--well not straight guys anyway. And Dean liked women. He liked the feel of a warm breast in his hand, the way he felt inside a woman. He liked women in high heels and dark lingerie, he liked smooth, round asses and long, clean-shaven legs. Sure he’d tried a pair of panties on once--and that was under duress--but he was definitely not gay. Nodding, he flushed and stepped into the shower. Dean Winchester was not gay.

The water was ice-cold and he might have let out a rather unmanly yelp when he stepped under the spray but he dealt with it. No power meant no hot water. Fine. He’d bathed in rattier motels than this. Rubbing shampoo on his scalp as though it had personally offended him, Dean gave himself a moment to think. He wasn’t gay, he knew that already. He liked women, that was a truth as solid as his own damn name. Guys though, guys had never been an option. Not with his dad and then after his dad things got complicated. It wasn’t like you had time to sort out your feelings when you were fighting evil. And if you’d banged enough women, did you really need to consider the alternative? He scrubbed his scalp with more vigor.

As a demon he’d banged a couple of guys but that was his demon self...it wasn’t the same as human Dean, real Dean. Hell, he’d done Crowley, but when the King of Hell wanted a round in the sack with you it was flattering. It wasn’t a gay thing it was just a thing. And maybe men were attractive too, nothing wrong with recognizing that other people were hot. It would be damn narcissistic to think he was the only attractive guy on this planet.

Rinsing his hair out, Dean grabbed the washcloth from the towel bar and as he rubbed the little bar of soap onto it, he had a flash of memory, him wiping his belly off while Cas stared at him, his blue eyes riveted on Dean. The angel’s pupils had been huge and the bulge in his pants noticeable. He was hot, plain and simple. Dark hair, blue eyes, and looking like he would let Dean pin him to a wall any second, Castiel was hot. Dean washed under his arms, down his chest, one leg and then the other. The damn erection was still there but he wasn’t touching it, not now. That would only further complicate things. 

They had kissed once, on the couch in the bunker, a little drunk on angel booze and real booze. Dean had dropped that like it burned him, made it exquisitely clear to Cas that when you were drunk you did stupid shit. And the kiss was one of them. And they wouldn’t talk about it ever again because for all intents and purposes it hadn’t happened. He rinsed the cloth out, put it back over the towel bar as he let the cold water rinse the soap from his skin. He wasn’t ready to face Cas, but they had a job to do. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.

Cas was sitting on the chair still, looking as though he hadn’t moved at all since Dean left him. He probably hadn’t, come to think of it. Castiel didn’t fidget.

“Cas,” Dean began awkwardly and the angel’s jaw tightened.

“You are going to ask we act as though last night never occurred, am I correct?”

The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, even if the angel tried to hide it.

“No,” Dean said, surprising himself. 

The angel started, looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion and Dean pressed on.

“Right now we’re on a case, and a case-within-a-case with whatever is going on in this damn town. I just want to put last night on the back burner.”

Cas’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I do not understand what we are burning.”

“No Cas, just...right now we need to focus on taking down the witch or whatever that’s causing trouble around here. And then we need to deal with the monster that’s killing pregnant women in California. I’m not saying we’re never going to talk about it, just not right now, okay?”

“So we are not going to act as though this never happened?”

“For now we are. I don’t have time to think all this through right now, we’ve got things to hunt. But when we get back to the bunker,” he swallowed and the words felt like boulders in his mouth but he let them drop out. 

“Then we can talk about it.”

Cas stared at him for a moment.

“That seems wise.”

“Okay. I’m going to get dressed and then we need to get something to eat. Can’t fight monsters on an empty stomach.”

  
  


“We were just talking about you,” Sam said and Dean half-ran to his brother.

“How did you know where we were? Phones are all out, there’s some weird magic shit going on…” Dean caught sight of Kate, who smiled.

“You look like a man who needs his meat. Let me get you a menu.”

Sam slid over in the booth and Dean plopped down next to him, leaving Michaela and Cas sharing the other side. Other than a momentary once-over of each other, neither angel nor nephil made a complaint. 

“How did you find us?”

Sam gestured to Michaela.

“Tracking spell.”

Dean exhaled sharply.

“You’re a witch now too?”

“Like you haven’t ever done a spell.”

“Guys,” Sam interrupted. “Can we focus please?”

“Right,” Michaela looked at each of the men at the table in turn. “We already know about some of the spells over the town--the attraction spell is the strongest obviously, it might be a lust spell but I really can’t be sure. Unless you heard and ignored Sam’s prayers, it’s creating some kind of blockage of angel radio. Then there’s something else going on. The power and phone service didn’t just happen to go out. This feels like purposeful isolation.”

“Lust spell?” Dean asked at the same time Cas said “There was no call for me.”

“Apparently you guys aren’t on the same page,” Sam remarked, scanning the menu again. “So what have you picked up from yesterday?”

Dean mouthed ‘lust spell?’ at his brother and then looked at the table in sudden interest.

“Magical waves knocked out the power, we know that much,” he said finally. And as he did, Kate arrived.

“Beg your pardon?” she asked as she handed Dean one menu and Cas another. “Did you say that magical waves knocked out the power?”

“It was more of a turn of phrase,” Sam explained as Kate looked them over again.

“I was going to say that if it’s magic you’re after, you’ll have to look over at Chase Collins. It’s just rumors but there’s something off about that boy. Hunter turned out a nice young man but his brother is a whole different story. Even though they’re identical you can just...tell.”

“I don’t suppose you have an address?”

“The FBI is chasing after town gossip now?”

“Ma’am,” Sam began calmly, “We’ve often found that even if the reasoning behind it is wrong, a lot of people’s gut instincts are spot-on. If Chase is the first person you thought of when things went wrong, it’s worth looking into.”

“I don’t want to get the Collins boys into trouble.”

“We’re just going to ask a couple of questions,” Dean flashed a charming smile, though Kate’s expression didn’t change. Her brows pushed together and the creases around her eyes became more prominent. 

“I can give you directions,” she said finally and both Winchesters offered smiles.

“Thank you, we’d appreciate it.”

“But you need to eat something first. No sense sending you over when you’re hungry and irritable. Chase can be grating on his good days.”

They ordered. Dean stared into the cup of coffee that Kate placed in front of him while Sam asked Cas for updates about what had happened already. Cas filled him in about the power outage and the strange buzzing in the room they’d stayed in.

“Buzzing?”

“I find it difficult to describe it another way. It is a steady insistent noise, but Dean cannot hear it.”

“Oh.” Michaela looked up suddenly from her glass of water. “I think I might know what’s going on. It’s not good though.”

“Is it ever?” Sam asked. 

“Remember when I said whoever was casting was imprecise?”

“Yeah.”

“The landlines are out, the cell service is out, if he just cast a blanket isolation spell or silencing spell, it wouldn’t cut off angel radio but I bet it would make a lot of white noise.”

“Like buzzing,” Sam said grimly. 

“Right. I can tune in and check, but I’m going to guess that’s what happened.”

“You can hear angel radio?” Dean asked and Cas looked equally surprised.

“Yes. Now shut up for a minute.”

While she sat with her eyes closed, Kate came back and set down plates, refilled Dean’s coffee and the waters of everyone else. Forks began to clink against plates as Michaela concentrated. Usually angel radio was like turning on a switch but now it was more like looking for one in the dark. Something she always had access to was suddenly out of reach. She concentrated harder and when she accessed it, her whole body was filled with an overwhelming buzzing, a low-level hum so intense it hurt her ears, her head, everything. 

_ Turn it off turn it off turn it off _

There was a touch to her shoulder and Michaela opened her eyes, the buzzing suddenly gone. Castiel stared at her.

“You said to turn it off.”

She hadn’t even realized she was speaking out loud.

Her stomach lurched but was empty. She sipped her water and after a few minutes, slowly began her breakfast.

“I’m going to go with yes on that theory then,” Dean remarked.

“Yes.”

“Great. Let’s pay and get out of here…” Dean looked into his wallet. “It’ll have to be cash...I got ten...eleven, twelve fifty...three. Twelve fifty three.”

Sam pulled his wallet out and came up with about eight dollars and change. Cas didn’t even bother looking, he had no need of money. 

“Well that’ll cover us,” Dean said, looking over at Michaela. “You got cash on you?”

Slipping a twenty out of her wallet, Michaela placed it on the table in lieu of answering.

Kate offered directions to the Collins house and they all piled into Michaela’s car (Dean complaining the entire time) to drive over. As soon as the doors shut, Michaela and Sam sighed with relief. Cas looked mildly surprised in comparison to Dean’s astonished look.

“What the hell was that?”

“The car is warded. All the spells hanging over town can’t touch us in here. Good thing too, whatever that spell is--lust, attraction, I don’t know. It’s strong as hell. Having to keep part of my brain focused on that is draining.”

The roads were paved. The driveways, in general, were not. The Collins driveway was a mass of dust and gravel with corn stalks that weren't quite high enough to hide in in fields on either side. The radio was nothing but static and Michaela switched it off as she parked the car to one side next to a battered pickup. They all got out of the car and hadn’t even made it up the driveway before a familiar figure opened the door and stood on the porch. It was the guy he’d gotten into a fight with the previous night and...he had a weird feeling he’d met him before, not during the fistfight. Somewhere else. A cornfield maybe? It was irritating, the familiarity that struck him ever as he realized--maybe from the facial expression, maybe the way he stood, that this was not Hunter from the night before, not Hunter Collins.

“Identical,” Dean muttered and forced a smile even as a wave of attraction rushed through him. Great, that would be the lust spell or whatever the fuck it was.

“Hey there,” he called and the young man on the porch leaned against the doorframe.

“Hey.”

Geez, even his voice resembled his brother’s.

“We’re looking into the outages around here. About when last night did you lose power?”

“It takes four people to make a house call?” He was still leaning against the frame, every line of his body loose and casual. Sam and Dean glanced at each other, both suddenly aware that the hair on the back of their necks was raised. Something wasn’t right. Cas let his angel blade drop into his palm, not drawing it yet, just letting it sit there when he needed it.

“You know what they say about bureaucracy,” Dean called back. 

“I don’t mean to be forward,” Michaela started towards the house. “But are you seeing anyone?”

She could feel the attraction spell yanking at her and the young man on the porch smiled.

“Collins house, right? Which Collins are you?”

He smiled wider.

“Chase Collins at your service. And actually, I am seeing someone.”

Michaela sauntered forward still.

“Shame,” she said, and was about three feet from the bottom step when she was flung unceremoniously backwards through the air. She tucked herself and managed to avoid landing on her head or neck, though the air was knocked from her chest as she hit the ground.

“Hey!” Dean shouted.

“I figured it was going to be like this,” Chase said from the porch. He pulled something from his pocket and crushed it in his fist. The world went silent.

The Winchesters, the angel, the nephil looked wildly around at each other. Mouths were moving but there was no sound. After a moment, Cas walked purposefully towards the porch. Michaela could see his mouth moving and watched as the angel too was thrown back, though significantly less than Michaela had been. He started forward again and as she watched, Chase Collins dropped, limp, onto the porch. The air became less oppressive, she could feel the attraction spell fading and as she watched, the porch lights of the Collins house flickered on. She looked around and saw Dean holding his gun out still, waiting for the figure on the porch to move again. After a moment, he lowered it and mouthed something at her or Sam which she didn’t understand. Castiel was beside him, one hand on his shoulder and Dean shook his head, rubbing at his ears. The angel walked over to Sam and laid a hand on his shoulder before approaching Michaela, who backed up a step. Looking mildly irritated, he pressed two fingers to her forehead and sound resumed.

“What the hell?”

“He burst your eardrums. My vessel’s healed after a moment, I’m guessing yours would have gotten there eventually.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically. This time she made it to the porch without being thrown.

The Collins house was mostly normal with the exception of one bedroom, which had a weird-looking altar and symbols drawn on the walls in what could have been a number of things. On the altar was a strange-looking stone, perfectly spherical and with a vaguely green sheen. Michaela looked around for something to pick it up with and beside her, Castiel made a disgusted noise.

“What? I’m trying not to touch it.”

Dean and Sam looked over from where they were studying a battered-looking spellbook.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

“That’s a wraithstone.” The angel’s distaste was evident. “It’s made by binding corrupted souls to an object. Very powerful and not recommended for use by the easily corrupted.”

“What was the point of all this?” Michaela asked. “I mean, he just did a bunch of spells for no reason?”

“I might have a clue.” Sam lifted an eight-by-ten photograph from between the pages of the spellbook. 

“Jessie,” Dean said. 

“Jessie?” Sam looked at his brother.

“She runs the motel Cas and I stayed in. And I think she’s dating Hunter Collins.”

“His twin. Yeah that would do it,” Sam sighed.

“I swear, men are idiots.”

Both Winchesters turned to look at Michaela.

“She chose already. She’s a person who made a decision and like a man, he decided she just needed to see it his way and she’d change her mind. As though her mind needed changing or she hadn’t already thought of half the crap he was going to say. As though ‘no’ wasn’t a complete sentence.”

Wisely, neither brother said anything. Cas, however, spoke up. 

“This needs to be hidden or destroyed.”

Sam looked concerned.

“There’s souls in there, what will destroying them do?”

“Once they’re released, destroying it will be easy.”

In the hallway, a board creaked. Dean drew his gun.

“Cas, I don’t suppose that rock has any kind of power to resurrect the dead?”

“No,” the angel replied. And then Chase Collins was standing in the doorway to his own bedroom. In his forehead was a neat hole, though no blood leaked from it. He blinked and his eyes were solid black.

“Cas,” Dean said slowly. “We have a problem.”

“I disagree.”

Chase’s voice was not his own. It was a half-octave higher, vaguely feminine.

“I for one, relish getting out of that damn rock and being at the whim of a jealous, lovesick kid.”

Dean fired off two shots, which the demon took with barely a flinch.

“Humans never do quit,” the demon muttered. With a gesture, she threw Dean against a wall. Sam started forward and she did the same to him. As Michaela headed towards the demon wearing Chase Collins, the demon shook his head for him.

“What, you figure that you can make a difference doing the exact same thing they did?” She was holding Sam and Dean effortlessly up against the wall and sighed overdramatically.

“Go ahead then. Maybe third time’s the charm.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Michaela said, drawing her knife. The demon flicked it out of her hand. She lifted Michaela an inch or so off the floor.

“You know, I’m constantly shocked at the stupidity of apes.”

That was when Castiel shoved an angel blade into her back and out through her chest. Chase Collins dropped for the second time as Sam and Dean crashed to the floor and Michaela thudded down as well.

“Good timing.”

The angel looked at her for a moment and shrugged.

“Cas, is that going to happen again?” Dean asked. “I’d like to know before someone else wakes up in this meatsuit.”

“The wraithstone is neutralized. It will burn now.”

“What do you mean, neutralized?” Dean eyed the body, then the rock Castiel was holding in one hand.

“The souls are released to go back to hell or wherever they belong. It is just a stone now.”

“And you did this…”

“While you were distracting the demon.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head where it had slammed into the wall.

“Of course. Distracting it.”

  
  


Cleanup was part of being a hunter and it went quicker with four than with two. The wraithstone, the spell book, a good number of questionable ingredients and objects were removed from Chase Collins’ room. Dean had suggested burning the place and being done with it, but only halfheartedly. The body and everything else fit into Michaela’s trunk, much to the surprise of the Winchester brothers. It was even more surprising when all the Impala needed was a jump. 

“Spell probably just worked like an EMP,” Michaela said. “Wiped everything in the area out.”

“The motel we stayed at had power,” Dean pointed out.

“Look, I’m just guessing, alright?”

Dean would have kept arguing but they still had things to hunt and people to save.

They stopped in the middle of Nevada to burn everything and then drove on.


End file.
